


Some Type of Satisfaction

by bardicbumblebee (orphan_account)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Choking, Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dom/sub, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, geralt is a bottom and i will die on this hill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22689298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bardicbumblebee
Summary: Jaskier is sure that in all his years, he’s never seen a more beautiful sight. The witcher is spread-eagled and panting on the bed in their dingy room, and despite their surroundings, he looks more regal than any princess Jaskier’s bedded. So when Geralt asks him to fuck him, of course, Jaskier wants to make him beg.they fuck. that's it. that's the fic. we all know why we're here.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 341





	Some Type of Satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy your pornography, y'all.

Jaskier mouths something incomprehensible into the crook of Geralt’s neck. Geralt is achingly hard in his trousers, and his breath is coming short, and his skin burns with every press of Jaskier’s lips, and he wants. He wants so badly it hurts, and he can feel Jaskier in between his legs, and his nimble hands tracing shapes on his pectorals, and his stubble scratching his collarbone. Jaskier is all “I love you’s” and clever, calloused, fingers, that are currently unlacing his trousers, and Geralt has never been more ready in his life. He grasps his waist firmly, rubbing the pads of his fingers over his hip bones, and Jaskier slides a hand up from his chest to rest gently on his throat. Jaskier looks at him, eyes dark with lust, and lightly traces his other hand to pinch the inside of his thigh- and Geralt moans, low and loudly. Jaskier kisses him chastely, and his lips are gone too soon, along with the hand on his neck, and Geralt almost complains, but then his mouth is pressed hot just next to his dick. Geralt reaches down to guide Jaskier’s head, but instead, Jaskier growls low in his throat, and pinches his thigh, hard, and Geralt has no idea that the bard had so much fight in him. “Be patient, sweetheart,” and there’s a challenge in his voice, “I’ll take care of you, I promise.” Jaskier sucks hickeys into Geralt’s muscled thighs, pointedly avoiding his swollen cock, and he wants to slap the bard. He threads his fingers into Jaskier’s hair and pulls his head back, looking him in the eyes. “Jaskier,” he growls, “I need you to fuck me _right now_ , or I swear to all the gods I will leave the room, find a brothel somewhere, and find someone who will stop _fucking_ teasing me.”

Jaskier is sure that in all his years, he’s never seen a more beautiful sight. The witcher is spread-eagled and panting on the bed in their dingy room, and despite their surroundings, he looks more regal than any princess Jaskier’s bedded. So when Geralt asks him to fuck him, of course, Jaskier wants to make him beg. “Only if you ask nicely, love.” An unreadable expression crosses his face, and for a moment Jaskier thinks he’s made a mistake, but then Geralt turns his head to the side and tries to hide his face in the pillow, almost as if he’s embarrassed, and, words muffled by the cloth, whispers “Jaskier,” softly, and then with more force, “ _Please_ fuck me.” Jaskier feels the words go straight to his dick, and he grabs Geralt’s jaw with more force than is strictly necessary and forces him to look him in the eye. “Since you asked so politely,” he murmurs, tightening his grip on his throat, “Where’s the oil?” Geralt points wordlessly to Roach’s saddlebags, and Jaskier reluctantly leaves his spot between Geralt’s legs. Geralt is sure that in all his years, he’s never seen a more beautiful sight. His eyes trace the slow curve of his spine, down to his ass, and takes in his soft and unscarred skin, and feels wholly inadequate. And then Jaskier turns around and gods, he's gorgeous. He wants to bite the pale skin just underneath his ribs, he wants to leave marks up and down his neck, he wants to follow the trail of hair down and down— and he realizes that he can, now, and goes to get up, but Jaskier glares at him, and his voice is so sweet, so soft when he tells him “Don’t you fucking move, Geralt.” His name in his mouth sends shivers down Geralt’s spine and he obeys, stays still as stone while Jaskier kneels in between his legs, doesn’t move as he’s slicking up his fingers, and only trembles slightly when Jaskier’s fingers breach him. Jaskier murmurs praise against his skin and Geralt is trying so hard to stay still and quiet and good for him, but Jaskier slides another finger in and curls them, nimble fingers reaching that spot inside him, and he arches his back and _moans_ embarrassingly loud.

Geralt moans and Jaskier has to resist every urge he has to replace his fingers with his dick and fuck him into the mattress, anything to make him make that noise again, but he’s committed to making Geralt beg for him, so he stretches him out excruciatingly slowly, flickering his fingers around his prostate and pulling out every time Geralt bucks his hips into him. He’s letting out little whimpers now, his scarred thighs flexing with the effort of keeping still. Jaskier kisses up his abdomen, nosing at his neck and leaving bite marks and hickeys underneath his jaw until he reaches his lips. Jaskier ghosts his lips with a kiss that barely touches him, and Geralt lifts a hand to press their bodies together. Jaskier’s cock is aching, and he wants nothing more than to comply, but he’s made a promise to himself, and he pulls his fingers out, slapping Geralt’s thigh and admonishing him softly, “Geralt. Remember when I told you not to move?” He can see legitimate fear in his eyes and he feels high off of it. Tightening his grip on his thigh, Jaskier bites down onto Geralt’s neck, hard enough to bruise, and Geralt rumbles, deep in his chest, and Jaskier’s had enough. He pulls back, looks Geralt in the eye, and he nods a little, accepting whatever Jaskier can give him.

The hungry look in Jaskier’s eyes is almost enough to drive Geralt over the edge. Jaskier pulls his fingers out of him, and Geralt feels empty without them, but he’s watching him oil up his cock, and it’s hot and heavy and dripping, and Geralt is twitching in anticipation. Jaskier’s eyes are burning into him, his gaze is dragging down, and down, and down, hungrily taking all of him in, and then he’s pressing in, ever so slowly, and the burn feels so good that Geralt can’t help but moan. Jaskier bottoms out, his breathing quickening, and his hands are firm on his hips, the only thing anchoring him down, and Jaskier presses a sloppy kiss to his neck, pulls out, and snaps his hips into Geralt, and he sees stars. Jaskier’s body is flush to his, his face pressed in the junction of Geralt’s neck and shoulder, and he whispers, softly, “Do you want me to fuck you?” Geralt can barely speak, his throat is so tight, so he just nods, mutely, and wraps his legs around Jaskier, pulling him closer. His voice is tense with lust as he growls in his ear, “Use your words, sweetheart.” Geralt’s face is burning and he can’t look him in the eye as he says yes, and Jaskier’s expression softens slightly. “Say it. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Geralt looks destroyed, his lips kiss-swollen and pupils blown wide, showing only the slightest bit of gold around the edges. The bites that decorate his torso will be gone by the morning, so Jaskier tries to take them in as much as he can. Geralt makes a little noise of impatience, and Jaskier smiles. He didn’t think the witcher had it in him to be cute, but he’s blushing and can’t get his words out and sweet Melitele, Jaskier wants to fucking wreck him. Geralt’s voice is gravelly, catching in his throat, and he looks Jaskier in his eyes and— “Jaskier. In the names of all the gods, fuck me,” The note of desperation in his voice drives Jaskier wild, and his cock twitches inside Geralt. He shifts, a little, just to remind him of the position he’s in.

He hums.

Considers his options.

“Beg for it.” Geralt looks shocked. “You want me to—“ Jaskier places a finger on his lips. “You heard me.” He can see the wheels turning in his brain, weighing his loss of pride with the pleasure that Jaskier can bring him. He evidently makes a decision. Geralt bites softly at the finger Jaskier placed on his mouth and in a soft voice he whispers “Please.” Jaskier cocks an eyebrow. “ _Please_ fuck me, Jaskier, I want you, I want to feel you—“ Geralt trails off, lost in his head, and Jaskier ghosts his fingers along his sides. “Good boy,” he says, and he can feel Geralt tremble underneath him, all tight muscle and scar tissue and heat. Jaskier’s suddenly aware of the fact that he’s currently balls-deep in him, and the tightness around his dick is overwhelming, and he starts to rock slowly inside him. The room is quiet except for their heavy breathing and the soft sounds of skin on skin. Geralt pushes his hips up into Jaskier, and the tug on his dick feels so damn good that he snaps.

Jaskier mutters a curse under his breath, and Geralt feels his breath, hot against his neck. Jaskier pulls all the way out, and Geralt feels empty, but then he thrusts back in with more power than Geralt thought he had in him. His nerves are on fire, and he feels the press of Jaskier’s plush thighs in between him like a burning brand. Geralt whispers the names of every god he knows under his breath, but it's not enough to express the feeling that's coursing through his veins. Jaskier is skilled, his cock hitting all the right places inside him, his slightly chapped lips whispering incoherent phrases against his neck, and _gods,_ Jaskier's hands are everywhere. They stroke over Geralt's chest, pausing to tweak a nipple, twining into his hair, and gently cupping his jaw to pull him into a sloppy kiss that swallows all of Geralt's sounds. 

Geralt is so damned tight, and Jaskier could come right now from the pressure around his cock and the sight of the witcher laid out on the bed. Geralt's hands, so skilled with a sword, so deadly, are clutched in the sheets, and Jaskier's eyes drag up his body, to the muscled column of his neck, and he has the intense urge to wrap his hands around it. _Fuck it,_ he thinks, and traces his hands lightly up Geralt's torso, ghosting his fingers across his adam's apple, and then squeezes on either side of his windpipe. Jaskier can _feel_ the rumble of Geralt's moan in his hands, and gods, it's the most attractive thing he's ever heard. Geralt releases the sheets with one hand, and wraps it around Jaskier's delicate wrist. His gold eyes are piercing, and Jaskier has the impression of a lion, tamed. Jaskier could keep fucking him forever, but he can feel his balls tightening, and he whispers, "I'm gonna come, Geralt," in a broken half-moan against his lips, and Geralt's brows draw together, a beautiful portrait of lust, and he hisses a filthy curse. " _Fuck,_ Jaskier, please," Jaskier moves to pull out, and Geralt traps him with his thighs, "Come inside me, I want to feel it, _please,_ " and Jaskier can only nod. His vision darkens around the corners as he releases, his hand around Geralt's throat tightening infinitesimally. 

Jaskier spills himself inside him. He can barely breathe through Jaskier's grip on his throat, and his aching cock is trapped between their bodies. The sensation is so sweetly overwhelming, and Geralt ruts against him, seeking some type of satisfaction, and thankfully Jaskier takes the hint, and wraps his hand around him. Overstimulated as he is, Geralt comes in long stripes over his abdomen after just a few strokes. Jaskier pulls himself out gently, and flops, spent, on the bed next to Geralt. His smile is wicked as he stares at the witcher.   
  
"Wouldn't have pegged you as the type to submit so easily, but hey. Even an old dog can learn new tricks."

**Author's Note:**

> instagram- @corvidcharmz  
> tumblr- @holybones


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